I crept into the shower and washed myself with cold water. I had hoped the cold water would cool me down, but when I sat down on the couch, my body was as aroused as it was before. I could not stop thinking about him.
My hand moved between my thighs. I felt dampness there. I groaned.
Touching myself, feeling my clit already swollen, I imagined Carter there. I thought about how he would touch me, his hand stroking me, playing with me. His strong fingers would find my big, swollen clit, stroking it with pressure again and again and again…
I touched myself, feeling my longing grow. I was aching with longing, imagining Carter’s strong body pressed to me, his thick hardness pushing into me inch by inch, filling me up. He would be big, I knew that, and he’d fill me slowly, his cock hard and stretching me as he lowered his body onto mine, his eyes holding mine as he moved.
I could feel myself getting closer, and I gasped and then moaned as wetness flooded from me. I was panting, and I realized that I’d never actually made myself finish. I shut my eyes and felt the energy flood from me.
I must have fallen asleep after that because the next thing I knew, I could hear water boiling and Tanya having a chat on the phone with a colleague. The smell of coffee hung in the air, and the sounds of cars and trucks in the roadway awakened me to a bright new day.
13
Carter
I woke up and squinted into the morning. It was Monday. My alarm clock was practically jumping up and down, and my ears hurt, so I turned it off and groaned.
“Damn it.”
I rolled out of bed and went to the shower, turning it on cold. Every morning, in fact, since I’d kissed her Friday, I’d woken up with thoughts of Amelia. I had hoped that this morning would be an exception, but it proved to be identical to Saturday and Sunday.
“And that doesn’t help when you’re about to see her in your front office, at your shop, in a little bit.”
I got out of the shower and got dressed, deliberately not checking my appearance a second time, even though I was now concerned with how I looked. I wanted to look good, even great, but I shouldn’t care what Amelia thought of me. I was her boss. That was, I thought, all she saw in me.
“She was drunk, Carter.”
I glared at myself in the rearview mirror of my car when I got in. I paused and, in an impulsive moment, decided to take my motorcycle instead. I needed the relaxation of riding it, feeling free and independent. I was already anxious about going to work.
I slipped on my helmet, sat down on the soft leather seat, felt the roar as I started up the smooth engine, then headed into Monday morning traffic. I stopped at a light, hearing horns blaring around me as, just like every morning, the drivers behind me decided to declare their impatience with the lights, the other drivers, and the world in general. And, especially at me, a biker.
For once, I understood how they felt. I had a good sense of distaste for the world myself right now. Instead of being free and unconstrained on my bike, I felt trapped in a world that compelled me to drive through traffic during rush hour only to arrive at a place where I’d be forced into close contact with someone I wasn’t ready to face. I felt like a prisoner behind the wheel, unable to change the course of my destiny.
I still felt restless even after the weekend. I had watched an NFL game with friends, lunched with friends, and had a jog, but I was still not settled or ready for work. I couldn’t stop thinking of Amelia and wondering what she was thinking about what happened Friday night and, more importantly, about me.
“Carter, pull yourself together,” I told myself, as I followed the traffic rolling along up the road and towards the main highway that would take me to the industrial zone. “It was just because you were both stressed last week.”
I had a hard week, and so had Amelia. We were two adults, and stress did funny things to people. We should forget about it.
As I got off of the motorcycle, I grabbed my rucksack and walked to a box that had arrived on Saturday for the job we’d be doing. After opening the box and looking at the small parts, special tape for the paint job, and a handle, I decided something.
“I’m going to just pretend it never happened.”
I let out a steadying breath. I tried to better understand why I’d been feeling so much stress. It wasn’t so much the kiss, which could be explained, or my response to it, which still surprises me. It was the fact that I’d been drunk and kissed Amelia, and now I’d have to face her at work, with no idea how she might be thinking of me.
“Morning,” I called, steeling myself as I walked past the workshop. Mark had been quiet all weekend, and I had a feeling he knew.
“Hey,” Matthew called. “Good to see you. We’ve just got started on the new job… is that good?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” I nodded, surprised by the efficiency of my brothers. I could see Mark at work, and Adam was busy cleaning the bike they were going to work on.
I paused and strode past the office.
“Good morning,” I said. My voice had a forced quality about it, and my smile, I was sure, looked ghastly. I waited.
Amelia barely looked up. She was reading through a report. “Morning, boss,” she said.
I walked into my office and shut the door, feeling annoyed.
“She could at least look up.”
I turned on my laptop and realized that I was being ridiculous. I was dreading her response all weekend—worried that she’d confront me, terrified she’d leave. And now, when she ignored me, I was mad?
“You’re being stupid.”
I shook my head at myself and tried to lean into my work, feeling unfocused. I needed to forget about this whole affair and finish putting in the parts and supplies orders. There were repairs in the shop waiting for me.
I went to the online BMW parts company and ordered the timing-chain we needed. We would need it by tomorrow. I printed the receipt. I picked it up from the printer and paused, remembering that I wanted to ask Amelia if she’d get everything in order for our tax accountant.
“Hi?” I paused at the door of the office. She was on the phone. She frowned at me, and I turned to go, then waited.
“And, thanks so much for calling. You’re scheduled for Wednesday,” she said to the client. I heard them laugh and exchange goodbyes, then she hung up. She looked at me.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling reduced by her stare.
“What?” she asked. “Did you need something?”
“Yeah,” I said, uneasy. “I needed to ask you if you’d filed all of the receipts for taxes?” It annoyed me that she was so calm, so indifferent.
She stared like she thought I was insane. “Sure… they’re up there.” She gestured to a file on a shelf in the storage room. I tensed.
“I’d like them to take to our accountant later on.” I managed to say. My voice was gruff. I cleared it.
“Sure,” she said. “Is there anything else I can do?” Her voice was lilting.
I was standing opposite her, staring at her sweet face. I could feel my body respond, even though I hated it. I wanted her, and I also wished I could walk out and never come back in. I felt so shy and dumb around her. I wished she would say something nice, or anything, really, besides these formalities. For that matter, I wish I could too. Why was I so pathetic around her?